I observed that a lot of us either did not understand the rules or we didnt bother to read them.

Very bad. In any contest, one of the most important things you can ever do is to READ THE RULES...and understand them. I even opened a comment thread specifically to respond to questions and clarifications, unfortunately even some of the questions asked were not the right questions..

So while the judges are judging, lemme be dropping little clues...

Now, one of the guidelines reads that contestants may write based on a theme of their choice- comedy, humour, tragedy, romance etc, right?

Okay.

But didnt I go further to state that this edition's Challenge is woven around the PROMISE AND EXCITEMENT OF THE NEW YEAR?

If you think about it carefully, it means only happy stories. Stories that are filled with happiness or excitement. Not tragedies.
If you decide to write a tragedy, you must tweak it or twist it with the best of your skill, somehow towards the finish such that it ENDS ON A HAPPY/EXCITING NOTE.
That's the Challenge.

A lot of contestants failed here.

Hmmm.
Everyone is blaming some mechanics for their errors, abi? Issorai. If they had posted it themselves, they wouldn't been saying so...

@eillo,that's exactly how it appears in your mail,but no problem, I've fixed it.

Oops, forgotten I can't open my ymail with my phone...what's your entry titled, bhenehdikt?

Bhenehdikt:
@whitemosquito,i included a title in my entry..my title was the subject of the mail i sent,but it didnt appear thus..wat do i do?

Bobo, does that not sound wrong to you? How can you put it as the SUBJECT of your mail and not the TITLE? The two sound alike to you?

Anywho... I'll do a modification of your entry now. Nothing spoil.

These are the entries I have received...Any issues or inconsistencies may be pointed out on the comment thread. I would do my best to sort it out.

A hearty weldone to all contestants for their gallant effort; as I have implied in the Challenge rules, this contest is not for the unskilled or the non-gifted, the First stage of moderation will now commence.

Entries in this stage will be judged on:

Plagiarism check

Adherence to rules-
The rules for the Challenge are as follows=

1 This competition is ONLY open to Nairalanders.

2 Only one submission per entry. Each submission must be a prose written in any theme of your choice, (comedy, romance, tragedy etc).

3 Entries must be original; not previously published on any online or print media. Entries will be vetted for plagiarism and disqualified if guilty.

4 Entries MUST NOT EXCEED 400 WORDS.

5 Submissions are to be written in EITHER clear, grammatical english OR clear, pidgin english.

6 All entries are to be titled.

7 This edition is woven around the New Year - the promise and excitement it holds. Also, stories must depict the African culture - beliefs, festivals, systems etc - both in narrative and plotting.

[/size][size=8pt][size=8pt]

Over to you, judges.
Larrysun, repogirl.

THE CHECKLIST by sammoe


He had been thinking of what would have happened if he had not sent the report before the midnight deadline. It was amazing how much he accomplished in seven and a half hours of frenetic activity – drafting, writing, re-writing, typing and clicking the send button. He had just checked off the last item on his work to-do list. Jerry stroke his bare chin at the realisation that the year’s work was officially over as he yelled, “I’m the boss!”. No one could have heard him. He was alone. He looked at his watch as he packed his bag. It was 10:57 pm. He had no business at the office till the New Year. With only five days to go, he was sure it had not been a bad year. He felt his right palm itch and he smiled. 2015 was going to be better.
Meanwhile he had to hurry home. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, tie loosened and stomach empty. He needed a few days outside Lagos. That could wait though. There was an important date tomorrow. He had to be on point. He could already see Jay sitting in front of him. He smiled. She was the last item on his 2014 checklist. New job. Check. New apartment. Check. Girlfriend. Almost checked. This girl was positively different, a breath of fresh air. He knew the attraction was mutual. With no other guy in the picture, he had to be quick about it. She had to know how much he loved her. Tomorrow was going to be great. With such blissful thoughts in his head, he narrowly missed hitting a strange figure.
Jerry shuddered as it turned. It was like a scene out of those nollywood movies. This feminine figure was covered in white from head to toe. She expertly balanced a calabash bedecked with cowry-like stuff and walked slowly as her lips moved in rhythm. He swerved into his street and slowed down as he approached his residence. He could not believe what he had just seen. He checked the rear view mirror.
With relief he shut the front door. His two hands were still shaking. As he emptied the contents of his pockets, he noticed an unread BBM message. Jerry unlocked his phone with a swipe. For the second time that evening, his right palm itched. This time he was not sure what it meant.

Dance To The gods!! by ksslib

"Wont you go to sleep? It's just tomorrow,you know. Earth won't spin two days ahead while sleeping" I said, approaching him. He was sitting in the middle of the dark compound.
It was late in the night, i could swear everyone in the village was fast asleep. Even the moon was stingy with its shine, as the lantern lit by Ghenero was the only source of light illuminating the earth within a 50km stretch.
He chuckled. "Iam just excited because tomorrow, i will become a man".
I tapped the back of his head, "Man or not, that wouldn't stop me from flogging you".
"We'll see about that" he fired back, jumped on my back as we made for the hut.
It was morning already,i could feel the excitement in the air. At nightfall,which was just few hours left of the new year,fathers and mothers were going to witness their 17yr old boys become men at the village square. We called it- Age Group Festival.
It was the biggest event we always looked forward to. Was it the naked dance by virgins, free food, the masquerade or wrestling match by the villages strongest?
I watched Ghenero as he sang a chorus warriors sang and swung the broom gleefully, whistling along as he swept the compound like he enjoyed the work. Very unusual of him, but given the occasion, I perfectly understood.
Smiling, i felt proud as i watched my excited little brother. I've been his pillar, mother and father since we lost both parents 10yrs ago when i was 18 and our bond has even grown much stronger. We've been through alot together as a team.
The noise from the not so friendly looking items that hugged the Chief priest's staff brought me back to reality.
"To what do we owe this visit, great one" I greeted, bowing my head as a sign of respect.
I got no reply. He just dropped a dark brown native fowl and left. I knew what it meant.
Ghenero ran towards me in excitement at the gift but as he approached, i didnt see my little brother. I saw a boy chosen by the gods. A boy who was going to die at the village square by nightfall. He was never going to become a man.
"The gods are indeed crazy" I muttered as a tear drop fell down my cheek.

CALL ME BY ADINIJE

She was seated on bed when they walked in
“Hello girl” she greeted her roommate, Nancy
“Hi Ivy, you didn’t go for lectures today.” Replied Nancy as she
motioned her boyfriend to sit down on the only chair in their one room
apartment.
“Yes my dear. Today is my lecture free day.” Ivy quipped. “Who’s that
with you? Ivy asked as she stared as the young man lustfully.
“Oh! Forgive my manners.” Nancy exclaimed, “Frank please meet my
roommate and sister Ivy” she turned to Ivy; “Meet my boyfriend Frank
the one I told you about.”
“It is nice meeting you” she said as she offered him her hand.
Frank received her hand and replied, “The feeling is mutually my dear.”
Ivy was reluctant in disentangling her hand from Frank’s as she smiled
at him seductively. Nancy who was oblivion of the tension in the room
was busy bring out packet of juice and chin-chin from the table top
refrigerator beside her reading desk. She settled on the bed beside
Ivy as she fills the three glasses before her with orange juice. They
chat and laughed while doing justice to the chin-chin and juice. Ivy
ceased every opportunity she got to wink at Frank who tried as much as
possible to avoid her gaze. That made him uncomfortable that he
decided to leave earlier than he wanted to. Ivy and Nancy saw him off
to the juncture. Ivy stylishly slipped a piece of paper into Frank’s
palm when she was sure Nancy wasn’t watching, but someone was
watching. As soon as the ladies left, Frank tore the paper into four
pieces and discards it, and then boards a bike to his lodge. Once he
was out of sight, the guy was had been seated under the shade of a
mango tree watching, took a drag from cigarette tucked between his
fingers. He dropped and smashed it, walked to the juncture and picked
the pieces of paper and key in the phone number in his phone.
He waited till 7pm before dialing the number, “hello babe, I know u
have been expecting my call, meet me in front of governor’s hall”
“I will be there” she chuckles.
He ended the call before she could say any other thing. A mischievous
played on his lips, ‘only if she knew what had coming’.

A touch of hope by bhenehdikt

It was on a cold harmattan morning, mama was the first to wake up. 'This was unusual of mama', I said to myself after waking up - due to the several times she sniffed her nose like one who had taken a finger-dose of snuff (tobacco). She was still seated on the old bamboo bed with her hands supporting her jaw like wood used to wedge pawpaw tree from falling.
I cleaned my eyes several times to be sure it was mama I saw; I had never seen her cry before (papa in many occasion had boast about her bravery amongst his friends). Even when Nneka was sick to the point of no return, mama was very strong like the iroko tree.
I was drowned in my own thoughts trying to figure out what it might have been that relegated her to this melancholic state. Embittered as I was and curious as well, I decided to ask mama to know what the problem was.
Mama had barely opened her mouth to speak when suddenly she burst in tears and could only mutter some words. I could barely hear a word as she was sounding more like the old radio papa sometimes hangs its antenna on the roof to get clear signals.
Like raw fufu inside hot boiling water, mama gathered herself together. In her own words she said, ''how do we cope in this New Year?'' Whom shall we lose this time around to the "cold arms of death"?
This didn't come as a shocker to us as past new years had either met us mourning over one family relative or another. Firstly it was papa who died barely two days after crossing-over into the new year;then follow shortly by mazi Okonta who fell from a tree while tapping wine. Tufiakwa! "Mama, no one will die this time around", Ebere cut-in, looking like one who was been chased by a masquerade. "Our 'Chi' will see us through these turbulent times and this year will bring good tidings", she continued. Somehow, these words seemed to have magically brought mama back from the ennui of sadness into the reality of the day.
After about four Eke market days, the family gathered around their local shrine with cocks, thanking their gods for seeing them through what was usually a time of mourning in the family.

Bhenehdikt

he Hunting Festival
By: Silas1475


“Chankyu, I think it would be better to stop discussing and rest a
little, the hunting party won’t get to our village till about 9.00pm”
My mother’s voice flirted out from the kitchen.
“Mom I can wait, sleep can wait till am back” I replied back.

“So tell me Bubor, what kind of animals can be caught in Chu forest?
Are there dangerous animals there?” I blasted my friend with so many
questions.
“Ofcus, there are really wild animals, I once encountered a large
python with yellow fangs, it was really big and frightened everyone
till some old experienced group of herbalists used local charms and
medicines to subdue and finally killed it, everyone were really
scared” Bubor explained, my siblings had already gathered around us
urging him to tell us more. He oblique of course, and kept feeding my
tender ears with exciting tales I could not even touch my food because
of the excitement.
Very soon, loud drums flirted into our ears, the hunting squad had
finally gotten to my village, I quickly grabbed my arrows and bows and
rushed out with my friend towards the direction of the sound of the
drumming, they hunting party were gathered in their hundreds as more
boys joined them, more than half of them just reaching the age of
sixteen, that was the official age to partake in the hunting festival
which took place on the last day of the year.

The Chu forest hunting festival took place on the 31st of December and
runs overnight into the New Year, only young boys from the ages of
sixteen upwards were permitted to partake together with seasoned
hunters and elderly medicine men from all the whole villages in Mada
land, it brought about togetherness and unity between villages. I had
just turned sixteen and could not wait any longer for the hunting
party to dance to the next village which would be the last before the
hunting festival starts.

Maybe I might be lucky to experience what Bubor told me about, maybe I
might see more. Maybe I might come back to tell my own tales, I just
could not wait……

By funmo

The deafening sounds of the fireworks and "knock-outs" aka banger wouldn't let me enjoy the latter part of my sleep. Just the day earlier, our neighbour's cousin's friend's nephew that just came in from the States ran for his dear life when he was welcomed by these sounds. "Everybody run for cover, run for cover" he kept screaming, people couldn't hold their laughter for long, especially the naughty kids that took turns tormenting Bryan with the striking of the bangers. This morning, 30th December 2014, it should be known to the whole world that the once-upon-a-Banger-fearing Bryan is the one not letting me enjoy my sleep to the maximum. He won't stop throwing these bangers everywhere. Can someone get me Obama's whatsapp line?
8 year-old Bryan has never been to Africa, his first trip here would forever be a memorable one, both to him and us-the occupants of Unity Estate, Molipa, Ijebu-Ode. The night he came in was even more dramatic; the power holding company seized the power according to schedule. "Help! I think I've gone blind, the world is coming to an end, world war 4", we didn't even know which one to believe of Bryan's rants. An American kid doesn't see electricity supply for a few minutes before the generator gets switch on and he goes on throwing endless tantrums? When he calmed down, he looked at his temporary-housemates with surprising eyes, " wh a t on ea a rth j j ust happened?" he stuttered, they made him know this is Nigeria and people get blind most nights and only generators restore sights, that the world comes to an end too, only to be recreated via sounds of i-pass-my-neighbours and that world war 4 has been fought countless times in this part of the world.
Bryan had no choice than to fall in love with his mother's land as soon as possible, he made funny eyes anytime he ate the local dishes, eba made him puke the very first time he ate it. He learnt a few words in Yoruba and would prostrate almost to everybody that came in contact with him. Bryan's going back to his father's land wasn't a sight to behold; he shed tears and swore to come back again. My Facebook updates filled with Bryan's doings came to an abrupt end, but I had learnt few lessons on perspective, adaptation and overall, love.

Name: Christopher Oleh!
NL Monicker: Chrisviral.
Word count: 399
Story Title: All in one Day!

‎Tunde is his name, Handsome, 28, works at shell and kept inviting me to come visit him.
One faithful saturday Morning, Dad was off on his travels to win souls for christ, My twin brother was no where around the house, I remembered Tunde, at last the opportunity to see him had presented itself, I called him, gave him our house address and he came with his Toyota Corrola Car and we drove to his house!
Oh his House was beautiful, well furnished with leather cushions and nice flower vases, he gestured me to sit, he started making advances at me, It felt good, I wanted him to touch me more, he must have read my thoughts for he intensified the movements of his hands round my young bosoms, before I could say J-A-C-K, we were naked, I stood with mouths agape, as I stared at his huge manliness, I was filled with curiosity, he must have read my thoughts again, for he assured me that everything will be fine, he pulled something that looked like a white ballon from his wallets, slided his Manliness into it and he took me to places I never knew existed!
Mid-way into it, we heard a Gun shot, I startled, which resulted into the balloon like thing on his maliness to make a tearing sound, he pulled out and said "it's just a minor cut at the tip, don't worry" of course I need not to worry, I wanted him to continue!
When we finished, as we were driving out of his house, we saw crowds gathered at a corner, he pulled over, I saw a lifeless body lying on the floor, I moved closer to see who it was... Ahmed was shut dead! I slumped!
Days later, I leant Ahmed and some boys were seen peeping into Tunde's house, when the security was alerted, they tried running, a shot was fired and unluckily for my twin brother the bullet caught him, he died on the spot, I had led him to his death!
Three Months after Ahmed's death, I started having rashes all over my body, early Morning fever and Nausea, Dad had to force me to the hospital, several test were ran on me, the Doctor handed me a life changing piece of paper.
My Name is Chidimma Amina Adeleke, I am HIV positive and Three Months pregnant, all for Tunde and this is my story!

RUNNING FROM THE PAST(The story of an Osu) by Pureivory (moniker)

Lola kept asking for answers I feared giving. This has been on for years now. We fight about it often but today, it shall end.
I was about recounting certain events of my life, saddest, darkest ones.
"This must stop Emeka. I won't let your heart suffer it alone any longer. Please, tell me why we cannot visit your village."
She stood by my side, I turned away from the window to face her. Her gentle fingers rested on my cheek, only then did I realized that tears stained my face. I felt pain in my heart, like bricks rested there.
I could see her own pain in her eyes, pains I caused.

"Lola, I'm an Osu, an outcast." She stared at me as if I made no sense. Then, I told her.

I told her how we from Umuode were ostracized by other villages in Enugu state.
I told her how passersby didn't come to my father's aid when he fell off his bicycle and hit his head on a stone. How he bled to death.
Mother's vegetables taken to the market for sales would all spoil because, nobody buys from an Osu. We indeed suffered in penury!

I told her how an inferno burned down our house, claiming the life of my younger brother whose screams a nearby farmer heard but wouldn't help, because my brother was an Osu.
Shunned by the society and her family for marrying an Osu whom she loved and lost, mother died of heartbreak.

I married from Yoruba because, hardly will any Igbo parent allow their child marry an Osu. For all I know, Deacon Okwuka dissolved marriage arrangements between my sister and his son the pastor on grounds that she was an Osu.
These aren't peculiar to my family alone, most Osu families in various parts of Igbo land suffer the same if not worse fates as no Diala (son of the soil) will want anything to do with smelly servants of deities.

Lola was shocked to the marrow but her strength equals none. She smiled sadly at me. "That phase is passed. Your sister is getting married to Ayo this January."
"Not forgetting our bundle of joy." I said, rubbing her baby bump. Lola laughed at that.

Finally at ease, I thought " 2015 will be a good year!"

@zuby94, your entry failed to download. Please post your submission directly on the thread.
Thank you.

Title:My Marriage. by Olusharp


Forever will i remember the the day David came to add the "Mrs" to my
name. Our house was full to the brim as guests arrived from my
paternal and maternal's family. The preparation for the Marriage had
began as early as 5:30am, my mom was busy ordering everyone here and
there and dad was doing his own preparation, my friends had also
arrived to help as they teased me at the slightest oppurtunity.

My Dad had insisted on having a traditional marriage, by 10am the
groom,my love David and his family members had arrived, i was quickly
taken to a room where i stayed with my friends, as was our tradition i
was not permitted to set an eye on my husband until the two family had
finished their discussion.
After hours of waiting, the excitement, the tension was all over me, i
was summoned, i walked in followed by my friends,my face was partly
covered, my husband-to-be sat on the chair admist his family beaming
with smiles. I knelt down before my father who started praying for me
using all the gifts that were brought as a source of prayer, my
husband was also later called to join me, he knelt down before my
father and we were both blessed, His parent did likewise.
It was time to go to my new home,my mom couldn't control it again she
burst into tears i couldn't help it, i joined the "crying race" which
my siblings also joined, it was only dad who refused to cry but i knew
within he was fighting hard to keep the tears away. I was soon led
away by my husband family followed by my friends, my husband family
were singing hapily, i got to my new family house by 9:30pm, i was not
allowed in,the women in the house hurriedly went to get a bowl of
water with which they washed my legs,blessing me in the process, After
this ritual i was allowed in, i went straight to my husband's room, he
had been waiting, he couldn't curtail his excitement as he carried me
to the bed,where we dance to the sweet tunes of sex. It was a pleasant
memory.

CHIAMAKA'S DILEMMA by spacefreak


The "udu" sounded loud and sweet in the air, the music and cheering continued. Mazi Okonkwo's gaze now rested on his daughter with happy thoughts of becoming a grandfather this new year. Chiamaka was still semi conscious of the villagers cheers and her father in front of her with a huge smile. "what am I going to do?", "do I tell him?" She thought. She had already accepted the "mpi" filled with palm wine from her father. "what will he say?" What do I do?" Her thoughts raved on. She gripped the "mpi" with both hands while trying to dance to the music. Her task remained finding her husband-to-be from the crowd. She knew exactly where Okechukwu seated in his white and blue "agbada" but she was still unsure of her step. She had caught Okechukwu's gaze severally with her eyes shying away. Her steps remained shaky. She dragged her feet while feigning a dance. The cheers and music was getting louder. Her heart pounded and she was already crying silently. "please the gods should help me" Chiamaka said silently to herself as she caught Okechukwu's gaze once more. She was getting closer to the love of her life. Few inches now separated she and her husband-to-be. He was wearing the biggest grin ever and was flapping his legs without care."oh, I am so sorry!" she thought. She was overwhelmed, her body fidgeted. The "mpi" fell. Shouts echoed. The music stopped. She ran.

BIODUN by Awesomeb1783

DEAD!? He can't be. I frightfully shuddered at the thought. All I remember was being woken by a loud shriek followed by sounds of struggle. I raced out to behold a yard in total disorder, wares scattered all over and a trail of fresh blood was ominously visible. Scary thoughts raced through my mind. Ah! The village ritual I thought. Fear gripped me as chills flowed down my spine. I was numb and confused.

It was customary for youths to gather in the village square every 31st day of December or crossover as we now fondly called it. On one such day years ago, we had been so involved in the usual festivities that the night offered; the dance competitions, song renditions, feasting, jesting and the unavoidable flirting. We were in the thick of the action when we heard screams. We rushed to the source and saw a girl visibly shaken with fright pointing in the direction of the bushes. It was hard seeing in the dark but from what we could make out, we think we saw men in white carrying what seemed to be a body wrapped in white walking into the bushes in a straight file. That marked the end of that night's activities as we all headed home as fast as our legs could carry us. The next day, I had naively asked my grandfather for an explanation but his answer didn't go down well in my head as he told me a long tale that ended with the village ritual.

In an instant, my grandfather's tale flooded my head. Could it be true? Could he have been taken? Where was Biodun?! My mind was clouded in terror but I just couldn't shake off the thought that he could be gone, as in DEAD! What was I going tell my parents as they had left me in charge of my siblings. I fearfully followed the blood trail toward our gates that was brightly lit by the full moon and in terror I screamed as my gaze met the sight: there he stood with jean torn and elbow bruised, frantically panting with a headless chicken clutched tightly in his right fist. There and then I recalled it was his turn and first time killing the NEW YEAR chicken... the feeble Biodun at last was reborn a man!

...Awesomeb1783

Obiajulu by iamsegsy


It was only few days from the new yam festival, Queen Akunna's beauty contest was the talk of the town, the village square would be filled once more.

The gossip that Ojuigo was doing everything to win competition was also trending amongst her peer. 'her mother had gone to the dibia' Chika had said, as she sighted Ezeugo, Ojuigo's mother coming from the same direction as with the Shrine. Ezeugo had bought the best attire and decoration for her daughter to mark the event.

Obiajulu wanted to participate, but her mother was too poor to buy her, decorations for the event. Ojuigo knew she would win, Obiajulu had just told her she won't be participating in the contest. Ojuigo knew Obiajulu to be prettier than her and a better dancer. She made a face and guise sympathy.

The contest began, the sound of music filled the air, the girls danced after the other, Ojuigo danced the best of dance she knew, her dark skin did well to radiate in the afternoon sunlight, as she move her waist to beat of the music. She was indeed beautiful.

The music stopped and all the dancers retired to there various positions. The Queen summoned the town crier.

The girls thinking it was to declare the winner, had their hopes high.

Obiajulu wouldn't have came out if Ekwefi had not pushed her out, after the town crier had delivered the Queen's message, 'giving room for any one else that wants to dance.'

She grotesquely reeled out the crowd only to be gawped at by the myriad spectators. Ojuigo gnashed her teeth, 'how did she get here?' she thought.

Music filled the air again, Obiajulu whose legs were trembling tripped and almost fell, in swoop she was back on her feet, the crowd yelled thinking it was a new dance step. She swerved through the dance arena, moving her waist in rhythmic manner to the heard song, the crowd could not help but let out loud cheers which shook the ground. Though she was not princessly adorned, her mother's old beads and jigida which flopped around her waist did much to disinter her beauty in the afternoon sunlight. She shone and reflected like the Crystal of beauty she was called.

The prince must have loved her performance, he was on his feet clapping, 'Obiajulu' he muttered, 'the mind at last is at rest'.

YOU WIN SOME... by shugaryme
The afternoon was going as planned. Trembling with excitement, Taiwo pushed the small wooden gate and hurried in after Kehinde.

He knew this was forbidden territory, but his ever persuasive twin had coaxed him into it. It was going to be quick and harmless, and they had dedicated their precious last banger to the mission.

The afternoon had seen several pranks each of which Taiwo had enjoyed. He particularly relished the memories of the young girls shrieking and scampering away. Except Sola. The disappointed look in her face, had made him feel silly and mean. The regret had drowned Kehinde's laughter, though not for long.

"What if it's the fowl?" Kehinde had asked, and another mission was born.

The white rotund bird was pecking hungrily at the ghosts of rice grains long eaten, oblivious to the fact that it would not survive the day. Mama said it's appetite meant more meat for everyone. How long it had been since they last ate chicken at all, much less one as big, Taiwo could not even recall. It was to mark a new year of prosperity, papa had announced. Beside the stake to which the chicken was tied, papa's scanty yams, almost indistinguishable from the sticks to which they were tied, did not quite agree.

"Oya na," his brother urged. Kehinde could barely use his right hand. He had broken the wrist years ago after a bad fall.

Taiwo lit the banger and threw.

His aim was perfect. Too perfect. It landed on the spot where the chicken had been pecking. The restrained bird tried in vain to wobble away from the fiery missile.

The banger exploded. The bird shrieked, flapping it's wings wildly. Then it fell, and with it, silence, till it shattered like ice against his mind and the chill ran down his spine. It stopped moving. The chicken.

"E no move again" Kehinde whispered the obvious, his voice as subdued as he looked. Taiwo knew who was as good as dead. It did not matter that the one with the two good hands did not bring the idea. If mama got to know first, maybe she could beg for them. If the chicken was dead or if papa came first...

Heavy footsteps interrupted his thoughts.

"Taiwo what is that?" The voice did not belong to mama.

Taiwo gulped.

The afternoon was not going as planned.

Yepala’s Price by eillo

“By the New Year, you could be playing in Europe. Leftie, you have to win this thing!” Coach prodded once again. “We can’t take chances.” The year 2015 would be the year I break into the international sports scene – if I won the national championship. I’d dreamed of this all my life.
I sighed.
We went immediately.“The deity usually takes something personal”, Coach explained. “Only things that you can live without, though.Yepala isn’t greedy. When I couldn’t father children, someone introduced me to Baba and Yepala solved my problem.”
“What did the deity take from you?” I asked
“Just one of my testes.”
“Sweet baby Jesus! Please stop this car. I’m not interested.”
“Yepala only took an earlobe from Abass.” I remembered Coach’s friend,Abass indeed was missing an earlobe. “Sometimes, it’s just a toe, a tooth or fingernails.”
He caught me looking at his crotch. “With my one testis, I fathered six sons. Leftie, don’t try me with your girlfriend o, I’m a Bulldozer!” He winked.
Yepala’s shrine was miles from civilization.She was a clay statuette painted black, red and white, sitting in a corner, wearing a crooked, sly smile.
Baba explained that first he would put me to sleep and then consult Yepala before proceeding to take from me what she wanted. “Your issue is a very small one;she may require just your pubic hair.” He asked Coach to wait outside as he brought a large clay pot to my face, smoke billowing from its insides.“Baba, ba-ba-ba, wait, wai…” I passed out.
I woke up slowly. It wasYepala’s sick smile that reminded me of where I was.I became aware of exquisite pain shooting through my arm.A cloth was wrapped round where my hand should be. I unwrapped it quickly. The hand was there.
But the thumb was gone.
Baba appeared through the door, Coach in tow. “Congratulations! All Yepala wanted was a thumb. I took the left one. The right one will be more useful for you.”
I screamed! “Nooooooo!”
“What’s the problem?” Baba asked.
“He plays table tennis with his left hand, that’s why we call him Leftie.” Coach said.
Yepala’s smile seemed a little broader, a little sly, like she was mocking me. I dealt a kick to her head, beheading her swiftly. Her head smashed into smithereens as Baba screamed, “Abomination!”

PICTURE IN THE FRAME by mrfils

It was riotous to say the least, a free for all feast with singing and dancing or better described shouts and gyration. I had barely arrived in the village when Tunji my closest pal or "padi" as we fondly called ourselves dragged me off to the village carnival. It was an event that we often looked forward to but this year; I lost interest due to my bitter break up with Asake in the city.

The festival was characterized with songs and dances of different kinds. We young men were particularly elated when it came time for the famous AGIDIGIDI dancers. Every hair on our skins was usually on edge and our senses alert as we all looked forward to seeing it firsthand. Its common lore in the village that Yekini the palm wine tapper actually jumped down from a palm tree, broke his legs and disc but still dragged himself on hands and knees just to catch a glimpse.

I held on to my cup of fresh palm wine as though it was a medal of honor, gazing from side to side as I observed the events of the night with less abandon. In an instant everything went from commotion to the trademark slow motion famous in the matrix trilogy movies as I made a shape so perfect and a face so fair make way towards me. A broad smile plastered on her face as though professionally drawn. She stopped a foot from me, leaned in and whispered in my ears "Can I have a dance?" and at that moment it happened; my crazy tongue stuck to my palette, she guessed I meant NO and so circled on her heels to leave. I could swear I grabbed and pulled her back but on a second look, my free hand was glued to my sides like a soldier at attention.

It’s another new year's eve and I can't get the thought out of my head. Standing on the same spot even after ten years still gives me the same chills from what I lost but one thing I will forever cherish is this picture in the frame; HER FACE THE PICTURE, MY HEART THE FRAME!

...MrFils!

THE REBEL by IGITee

BANG! The pistol let out a loud cry. Just like a rehearsed fall, Musa's lifeless body fell with a thud. His hands were bound but from his facial expression he looked free. Shocked as I was, I motioned to reach for him but a terrible slap brought me back to reality. Instantly I lost visual coordination in my left eye but as my sight slowly returned I realized I was surrounded by men who I clearly knew, all looking down at me with disdain. Shagari or Oga as we usually called him faced me and with the same husky voice he used in pronouncing Musa's judgment started "These ones think they can stop our fight for freedom, they have forgotten about loyalty to the brotherhood. Thank God for Aminu here (tapping Aminu on the shoulder). Today we will show you how we treat rebels...""REBELS" I smirked at the thought. What do you call rebels amongst rebels? (cynical indeed). He went on but I was done listening, I shut my eye as firmly as I could (for once I wished my ears had lids).

It’s funny how the whole world seems so little when you are peering down the barrel of a loaded pistol. I know I have done some awful things in the name of freedom fighting but this was just too much. I remember my childhood days when we looked forward to the new year with so much gusto (the new clothes, celebrations in the street and Oh my God! the New Year’s white rice). I couldn't imagine being the reason for tears to innocent souls on such a day. His words were shrill when he gave the order; "Plant the bomb in the park so we can hit them where it hurts". What crime have these little ones committed I wondered. No! I couldn't, it was time for change. We were apprehended on our escape but our plans didn't totally fail because we succeeded in disposing off all explosive charges.

As I kneel here, I can't help but wonder about the fate of my mother who has no clue of my whereabouts. I planned to set things right come the New Year (my only resolution) but now all I fear for is her safety. I know I might not survive this but I feel fulfilled because we just saved another New Year celebration… BANG!

...IGIT!!!

INJUSTICE AMONG US by diamondwriter

“This jury finds Fatima Abdul guilty and hereby sentences her to life imprisonment.” The judge pronounced just before the circolo burst into spontaneous murmur. As I was whisked through the aisle of the court room, I caught a glimpse of my parents. I saw their eyes as they saw me, they felt nothing.
As I little child, I loved everything. The ones I couldn’t get mostly and education was one of such. Every morning I would peep through my window as the fortunate kids passed by my father’s house looking smart in their uniform. I always wished it was me in that white top and black shot. My dad and mum cared less about education. For them, the success of a woman was measured by how well she was appraised by her husband. My uncle also stayed with us. He was different from my parents and would buy little books for me and though I couldn’t read them, owning a book made me feel smart.
My life was status quo until Alhaji usman came into our home and changed it forever. You are going to become a woman, my mum said to me. My uncle was sent out of the house that night after a fight with my father. I knew sorrow was imminent.
My wedding day was like a funeral to me. Every dream I had nursed were murdered in cold blood. I tried to accept my fate, I couldn’t. Suicide seemed like a more pleasant option. As I pondered on how best to kill myself, Alhaji came smiling like he won a trophy. I didn’t understand his intentions at first until he touched me where no one has before. Mom never mentioned this. I tried to pull away. He forced me. I cried.
He did it again the next day, the next day and the day after that. I was in hell. After breakfast on a Monday, he came at me, shredding my clothes like a monster. It happened so fast, I had a knife and I stabbed him. He fell and I ran. My parents wanted nothing to do with me. I was a disgrace.
I had a lawyer, NGOs came. They all gave me hope until I was judged. I thought I was the victim, Society thought differently. My name is Fatima and I have met injustice.

THE THOUGHTS by fabiano09

He swung the wobbly axe with careless abandon. His lean muscles contracting as the axe fell repeatedly on the piece of wood. Many times he missed, but still kept at it. Tired and sweating profusely, he stopped to wipe the sweat from his brow. He was a hardworking young man,poor,but he had a cheerful outlook about life.
His eyes darted to the far end of the compound, where the dying glow from the fire still shown like nocturnal fireflies. Dusk was fast approaching, and he had to go to the stream. The stream would be quiet and undisturbed, he thought, just the way he loved it. He also rememberd his fish lines,a quirk smile formed at the edges of his lips. ‘I hope it catches something,fish peppersoup would be lovely tonight’,he mumbled to himself. This was one of the things his father had taught him,to be friendly with nature,so that his daily bread would come from it. He knew nothing else. Occasionally he would set wire traps in the bushes behind the river,but he seldom caught anything worthwhile. His best hunt was a scary eyed bush rat,that kept squealing until he released it from its misery. He relished the feast that day,which he enjoyed with his closest friend Ajani. They had roasted the bush meat and ate it with peppered palm oil,washing it down with fresh palmwine.
He smiled to himself,continued axing the wood. When he was done,he gathered the spliterred pieces and carried them to the fire. Arranged the wood in the dying fire,and blew it with powerful spurts from his lungs. Then he sat by the fire,enjoying the warmth it gave him. The harmattan this year was very harsh. He could hear the distant faint sound of music,wafting in from uphill. The city people had started coming back. It was always a nice time in the village this period,they brought happiness and good tidings. And most importantly gifts. The new year was only days away. He thought about going round the village visiting them. It was an important custom. Maybe someday his children would dwell in the city too. He wondered why he had not been keen to leave the village. He loved it too much infact. It was the land of his father,and his ancestors. His umbilical cord was buried here.He shook his head and let out a wry smile.He looked up to the heavens. Hope alive.

Grief of a Zulu Muse (398 words) by OMA4U

It was twilight, when the sun was travelling along the firmament to pass the baton of day to the moon, Mbali squatted behind the rows of grassy strips of basket materials. She packed the artistic baskets she had made and sat down to weave another set of designs. Her keen eyes focused as they were chanting creativity and breath into the baskets. Her fingers were busy weaving baskets of various decorative bands, intricate triangles, diamonds, and zigzags motifs. Under her thatch, she watched the group of spectacular maidens who were rehearsing Bull dance; they were clad in short grassy skirts embellished with beads, while their full grown hair stood proudly on their scalp. Mbali, too, was smartly dressed in a thick cowhide skirt. Her bosoms were covered with attractive beads and on her head was hat made of grass and cotton that is sewn into hair. She had meticulously taken care of her calves - the fleshy part at the back of her leg below the knee; it was the cynosure of attraction for Zulu men. She loved the ambience, the gentle wind as it caressed her, the ways trees surrounded her hut like sentinels. She had woven enough baskets that would fetch her much money. She couldn't wait to see her husband; her visage brightened as she anticipated another wonderful new year. She smiled and picked another crosswise strips and conjugated them with lengthwise ones.

Earlier years in Zululand, weaving of artistic baskets was accustomed to men until the British stormed the land, they took the men to work in the mines, then women began to find it necessary to learn to weave the traditional African Zulu baskets. In the city where they worked as diamond miners, the men often hired prostitutes, and they incidentally contracted HIV. Their working conditions were often dangerous and prone to short life spans, and however, their meagre pays did not compensate for it; so the man rarely had any money left after paying their rent, upkeeps, and prostitutes. Mbali's husband soon became a victim of HIV. The fatal disease had mutilated his immune and his breath was hanging in a place between life and death. It was apparent he would succumb to the underworld. Mbali had always prayed to the gods to protect him, but her prayers seemed to return unanswered. When her husband was brought home, her anticipations turned sour.


Note: Weaving of artistic basket is a Zulu culture, Bull dance is a culture, and also women taking care of their calves to attract their men is a tradition in Zulu.

Title: THE HOTTEST DAWN by Ruffhandu

It’s been twelve years since we last saw daylight. Scientists called it pathomiscue-eclipse of the sun, which they described as resulting from an orbital shift of the sun. There was incontrovertibly widespread panic initially, but calm had returned after many weeks in darkness. Thereafter, we did everything in the night. There was no more divide between night and day; no check by time. Every energy we used came from electricity and the moon.
In my village, the New year is heralded by genital circumcision of males eight years old. It is a big ceremony held on the first market day of the year, never later than the fourth day of January. The ceremony is presided over by the village head, with lots of guests, friends and well-wishers from far and near in attendance. Usually, there is plenty to eat and drink, only that the Initiates scarcely participated in the fanfare, as they endured excruciating pains.
It usually starts with the circumcision, followed by jubilations if no death occurs, while the circumcised are taken home to endure pains. But this year, just as the circumcision was about to start, daylight crept in like a thief, quickly, with an attendant burning sunshine. The change threw people into confusion. What used to be part of nature became abnormal. The worst hit were children who only heard of daylight in stories, it was totally strange to them.
At the village square, Men, women and children were seen scampering for safety in all directions. The lenses of some people’s eyes went out of shape in the process of quick accommodation, causing blindness. People screamed like vampires vulnerable to sunlight. Even the Village Head ran with only staff in hand; his crown and sceptre nowhere with him. People did not wait to get home, but took shelter in the nearest shade of darkness.
Okoso, the madman, smiled as he walked majestically towards the heaps of food and fruits at one corner of the square. He took a bite out of a fruit and that made him feel good within. He settled to feast on some eba and egusi soup, which he had served himself, after luridly gesticulating to an imaginary waiter. He had not had a good meal in a while. ” Foolish people, I thought you said the ceremony is a tradition that cannot be broken.” He muttered as he savoured his meal.

The White Mosquito Flash Fiction Challenge

Submitted by Mobsync (nairaland.com/mobsync)


Faceless Enemy

"All my enemies; DIE," Simi screamed as she sprinkled water from a small plastic bottle round her one-room apartment.

Within the past week, she had been haunted by a faceless enemy, or so she thought. The enemy came every night in the form of a bat which she always killed, only for another to appear the next night.

"This is unusual." Simi had thought to herself. Finally, Iya Oshogbo: the old woman in her village she refused to greet the other day had decided to put good her threat.

She reported the 'attacks' to her pastor who confirmed her fears. He prayed for her and gave her a bottle of holy water acclaimed to have been blessed in seven folds by Angel Michael himself. She was to sprinkle half of the water round her room and dilute the remaining half in a half-filled bucket of water which she was to use to bathe half of her body, before bed.

After sprinkling half of the holy water round her room, Simi undressed and walked into the bathroom. She poured the remaining half into a half-filled bucket of water which she used to bathe half of her body in half a minute. She then stepped out of the bathroom half-naked to see half of a bat dangling from the ceiling fan.

She reported this latest development to her pastor who declared an all-out spiritual war on the witches and wizards in her village, Iya Oshogbo in particular. He also recommended a 40-days marathon fasting and prayer for Simi.

The marathon fasting and prayers soon began. Simi was forbidden from leaving the church premises while it lasted. Everyday followed the same process: a quick light meal at midnight and serious prayers for the rest of the day.

After 40 days, the marathon fasting and prayers ended. Simi, thinner and paler than usual, left for her house. With her were a drum of holy water and a 25-litre jerrycan of olive oil.

The moment Simi stepped into her room, she got the shock of her life; for flying about her room were 40 bats, one for each night she was away.

Simi fainted.

THINGS A GIRL SHOULD NOT HAVE BY GODWINGODSON

Many years ago in ancient Calabar was situated a small village called Aram close to the great sea, the people of Aram served a water god called Aramne and his place of dwelling was a river called Iri.
Every first day of the new year, was regarded as a sacred day hence nobody went to the Iri river on that day as it was reserved for their god.
One faithful new year, the daughter of the king ; princess Ora who was known for her pride and stubbornness decided to go swimming in the Iri river.
Aramne had heard of Ola’s pride and stubbornness and so decided to punish her as she approached the river, the river god in rage spread out his waters ashore and swallowed her not stopping there, he went on and flooded the whole village destroying their house. Since then the people of Aram have been living in tents because they never know when someone like Ora would arise again and make them lose their homes so if you are ever in Calabar and mention the name ‘Ora’ to a man from Aram, he would shake his head and bitterly say ‘’Two things a girl should not have; stubbornness and pride.’’

The Wedding Test by drachel.

Usman Danjuma felt weak, his strength almost zapping out just by the
sight of town flesh and blood, every stroke of the large bamboo cane
on the backs of his rivals made his throat sore. Their cries, pains
and tears gave out the feeling of death, one could easily be deceived
Into thinking it was a burial ritual or cleansing or even a thief been
punished but the sight of a beautiful damsel seated in a colourful
canopy with maids around her disclosed that it was a marriage
ceremony.

The men being flogged were not thieves but suitors to the damsel
seated with maids, it was a common ritual that a suitor most prove his
worth to marry her by receiving twelve strokes of cane without
standing up.

Hence the reason Usman and six other able-bodied handsome young men
were there, Amina was the village most beautiful damsel and any man
could gladly give his life for hers. She stood tall among her peers,
light skin, about six feet tall, pointed noise, small lips and long
hair which many girls envied.

Usman needed a wife because he was planning to move out from his
father's house in the new year, he had prepared fully for what ever
cause, he promised himself to win Amina's hand in marriage.

"Usman Danjuma" His name was called out, he walked out unsteadily,
Amina smiled at him which gave him reassurance. Five men had all
failed, every one waited to see if he would succeed.

Legend has it that the bamboo cane was soaked in poisonous venom to
enable a cruel sting on its victim. When the first stroke landed on
his bare back, he whimpered, biting the pain in. The second hurt more,
driving him to insane Heights, he thought about getting up to run,
then the gentle sobs of Amina flirted into his ears, she could not
bear the thought of him losing.

He diverted his thoughts to the future, he and Amina bearing kids
together and taking care of their cows, drinking cow milk, he would
gladly lay down his life to protect her.

Not until people began screaming in joy did he realise that he just
won a wife, he had collected twelve strokes of the cane without
fleeing. Tears welled up in his eyes when he realised his dreams had
come to pass.

He finally had a wife

AN ENCOUNTER WITH THE MASQUERADES BY martin92

In Abeokuta, there lived a teenager,Eze who has never been to his village before. The masquerades he was accustomed to at Abeokuta exhibit only their dancing skills and were not interested in chasing people about. He has been hearing stories of how the masquerades (the most feared in Nigeria) popularly known as ‘Mmanwu’ at his village in Awo-idemili,Imo state chases people up and down, he even heard a myth that the masquerades came from underground and retire back to there and his joy knew no bounds when his parents told him that he was going to the village with them for the Christmas and New year celebrations.
It was on the 27th of December, sons and daughters of Awo-idemili (even outsiders where not left out) gathered from home and in diaspora to witness the masquerades perform at the village square. Eze watched in fear from the females’ stand as the masquerades chased people about, as soon as he left there, a masquerade gave him the hottest chase of his life. As he kept on running he saw a meanly looking masquarede ahead - it was now a case of being between the devil and the deep blue sea, but luckily for him he saw a house by the side of the road and used his last ounce of strength to enter the stranger’s compound, Narrow escape!.
As the activities went on, he watched in astonishment as the otiaba(tall masquerade) hit his head twenty times on the ground. Then came the female masquerade(mmanwunwaanyi), she was hardly seen as she was being surrounded by other male masquerades, Eze was determined to at least catch a glimpse of her so in his quest to achieve that, he climbed a tree from afar but could only get an obscure view of her. When it was time for the masquerades to retire, Eze decided to stalk one and confirm if it was really going to go underground, little did he know that there was another masquarede following him at the back, Eze’s ‘third eye’ was activated instantly and as soon as he looked back he was already on top gear for fear of the unknown.
It was now time to leave for Abeokuta, Eze was so happy of his adventure at the village that he reproved his parents for denying him this opportunity for so long.

New Year’s Bazaar

By

ezicat




“It’s important to look your best for the Bazaar,” Kelechi’s mother declared, fretting over her daughter’s dreadlocks. “Oh God, this hair! No wonder you can’t find a man. I pray to God that this year will be different.”
Kelechi rolled her eyes at her reflection in the mirror; her mother was too busy messing with her hair to notice. Who said I was looking for one, she thought, choosing instead to say, “I thought boys were bad, Mom.”
Her mother looked up briefly, a quizzical frown on her face. “What rubbish. Whoever told you boys were bad.”
Another eye roll. “You did, Mom - you and every other adult female. ‘No boys. Keep away from boys. Focus on your studies,’” she parroted.
“Well, obviously, as a young student, there’s no time for romance. But you’re old now. Over thirty, and still unmarried.” Her mother looked completely scandalized at the thought.
Third eye roll. So you have an unmarried adult daughter. What was the big deal? Honestly, old people and their outdated traditions.
Kelechi knew better than to say anything out loud. She dare not say that women no longer needed to have men take care of them. Not when they could get an education and a well-paying job, or start their own business. If the woman wanted a child, there were so many orphans in need of a good home. And as for being cared for in old age, that was what retirement savings were for. But, if she was being completely honest with herself, her greatest reticence to marriage, by far, was the way too many men treated their wives – as a cook, cleaner and brood mare for their children. Ugh. How many were faithful? How many were respectful? What exactly were the pros of marriage? Honestly, there were some traditions that she could really do without.
“There. All nice and prettied up!” her mother stated.
Kelechi slowly looked up, ready to cringe at whatever hairdo her mother had foisted on her. Hey, not bad! Her locs had been grouped and coiled tightly so that they flared around her head, accentuating her high cheekbones. Not bad at all.
“Ok, let’s go. There’s a nice young man I’d like you to meet.”
Kelechi heaved a long, suffering sigh. Here we go again.